The End of An Era
by SteeeeeeeveWatson
Summary: The Holy Roman Empire left Italy a long long time ago, but he never forgot him. He is the reason he carries on. The reason he keeps on fighting his losing battle. But he can't keep going for ever. Prussia loves fighting, but hurting a child... HREXItaly


**Hey Guyyyys!!! I wrote this for ya. Man I feel Prussia-ish tonight… Anyway, being more business like.**

**There is HRE/Italy in this, and a lot of Prussia pov. **

**Also this expounds the theory that HRE=Germany, don't like don't… wait. Do read. You might come round to it!!**

**Please read and review.**

**Deine**

**Wessi. X.**

The Holy Roman Empire marched forward. Another day, another battle, another in the endless war his life had become. Since he left Austria's house six years ago, all he had been doing was fighting. It was necessary. He was sure of that; he needed to wipe out the disease that was Protestantism within Europe. He needed to protect Rome. Feliciano. He needed to be able to return home successful, and he would.

God was on his side.

He told himself this as he marched onto the battlefield, leading his people, but it didn't seem real. He had been having doubts, recently. Perhaps Protestantism was right… Perhaps their beliefs were more logical. The Lutheran system of belief and government definitely made sense, but…

He couldn't let Feliciano down. He had to fight, to protect his honour. He couldn't stop now. Even so he was tired. Exhausted. No. He was fine. He continued to march forward.

He looked up; seeing the opposing army approaching he felt a quiver of fear run through him. The nation he had to fight was older than him. He was tall, well built. The Holy Roman Empire could see the experience in his scarlet eyes, and he was scared. Something told him this was a fight he wasn't going to win.

No.

He would win. The fact that he was outnumbered, that he and his troops were so tired they were barely standing, was irrelevant. God was on his side. He looked up at the nation standing before him, steeling himself.

Prussia strode onto the battlefield. He would win this. He always won. Always. Well perhaps not always, but that was beside the point. He was awesome. These Catholics would quake beneath his awesome…

They wouldn't even get a chance to run.

He looked across the battlefield at the bedraggled army he would be defeating. As he approached he saw the nation leading them more clearly.

He was… young.

Prussia hadn't expected to be fighting a child; the boy in front of him could not be older than 12. He gazed into the boy's startlingly blue eyes, and saw…fear. The other nation was trying to hide it, but Prussia could see weariness in the dark circles beneath his eyes, and terror in the whiteness of the boy's knuckles as he gripped the sword. But that was good right? This would even easier than he had expected, but despite this it felt wrong.

The boy was _so_ young.

He should be playing with friends, and laughing, not leading armies. He shouldn't look battle hardened. He shouldn't _have _to hide his fear. Still. Prussia couldn't let this affect him. He had a job to do, and an awesome reputation to maintain.

The Holy Roman Empire glared defiantly up at Prussia, who smirked at him. 'You think you can take me kid?'

_No. But I have to try, for his sake… _'I'll destroy you.' The boy replied, through gritted teeth, still glaring. Prussia felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't want to kill the child. He didn't even want to hurt him… He raised an eyebrow. 'You sure? If you surrender now I'll leave you alive.' Prussia kept his voice steady, but inside he was desperately wishing that the child would give in. He knew the younger nation wouldn't. He could see the steel glint in his eyes as he glared up at him, but he could still hope.

HRE sneered at the man in front of him. 'You wish.'

Prussia paused. Yeah, he _did_ wish. But that was beside the point. He shrugged. 'So lets get on with it squirt.' He turned and walked back towards his army, cloak billowing behind him.

The Holy Roman Empire did the same, nodding to his troops. The opposing armies charged each other, and then…chaos. Prussia looked around him as he half heartedly slew any soldiers stupid enough to attack him, searching for the other nation.

He would have to fight him. He knew it would come down to that, and the fewer casualties the better. He spotted the other nation, the boy was fighting well considering his age. He had not sustained any serious injuries… so far. He would. Prussia would hurt him. Kill him. He had to… He made his way over to the nation, casually swinging his sword to clear a way. He tapped the boy on the shoulder.

The Holy Roman Empire turned to face the nation standing behind him. He breathed in slowly. This was it. He was going to die. He felt strangely calm about this… It was almost… welcome. He was tired, he was so so tired. And sick of fighting. He wanted it to end. The only thing was… he needed to get home. He had promised Italy he would come back. Italy was waiting for him. He had to try. He pulled out his sword.

They fought. The Holy Roman Empire put up a good fight, but not enough. Prussia was ferocious. He had vanquished all doubt. Now he was just fighting in the moment. He swung his sword again, and again, wearing the smaller nation down. The Holy Roman Empire parried and blocked as best he could, carrying on despite the blood now seeping down his leg and trickling down his cheek. He couldn't lose. He couldn't show weakness.

He tripped.

Prussia leapt forward, slashing across the younger nation's chest, causing him to stumble backwards. The Holy Roman Empire fell, his head smashing against a rock. Black spots danced before his eyes, and for a moment all he saw was red as a fresh trickle of blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes, but still he forced himself to continue.

Prussia's heart ached as he saw the young nation weakly raise his sword, and wave it feebly towards him. He put his foot gently on the boys chest, inadvertently causing him to cough uncontrollably. He knelt down beside the boy, removing his foot. 'You lost kid. Give in.'

The Holy Roman Empire scowled, choking out 'never!' He tried desperately to reach his sword again, but Prussia picked it up. 'Kid, you lost. Get over it.' He walked away, whistling. As he did a bird landed on his shoulder. Prussia smirked. He would come back in the morning to see his victory in daylight.

HRE watched as Prussia left, barely conscious, clinging to his life. He had to go home! He had promised to go home, to see Italty. He couldn't give up, he couldn't… But he was so tired… And he had failed. He couldn't go home after having failed. It was better he died here. He breathed out slowly, chest falling. He coughed one final time, then… nothing. He was still, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed shallowly.

**Next Morning:**

Prussia wandered around the battle field, surveying his victory. He was awesome!! But somehow his pride was tainted. He had killed a child. He had been following orders, and the boy had been a nation, but he was still a child. He surveyed the battlefield, looking over the carnage he had created. The smaller nation lay a few yards away, black cloak torn, spreading out around him, soaked in blood.

The Holy Roman Empire…

Such a grand title for a nation so small, so young and inexperienced, Prussia reflected sorrowfully as he looked down at the child. He looked so peaceful, yet so small. His blonde hair was matted with blood and dirt, and dark, rusty blood streaked across his face. His blue eyes were closed, and he was barely moving…

Wait. Barely moving?

Prussia started as he realised the child was moving. He grinned. He was alive! He watched the boy's chest rise and fall, mesmerised for a moment. The boy was resilient, he reflected. He could use someone like that… But he couldn't be seen to be fraternising with the enemy, that would be unacceptable. Unless…

He carefully cut the tie of the boy's cloak, still around his neck. He took off his own cloak and wrapped it tenderly around the child, lifting him out of the black cloak. He took the boy in his arms and carried him away.

**One month later:**

The boy woke up. He looked confusedly around the room. He had no idea where he was . He should know where he was. He was… wait. What was he? Who was he? He looked around again, panicking slightly. A man walked in. He grinned when he saw the boy was awake. 'Hey!! How're ya doing? I bet you're doing awesome!! Wait… does that make sense…' He trailed off, distracted by a bird on the window ledge. The boy looked at him carefully. He didn't recognise him either. He spoke quietly, making Prussia snap out of his trance. 'Umm… you don't happen to know who I am do you… I seem to have forgotten…' Prussia paused for a moment. He couldn't tell the boy the truth…. 'You're my brother dumbass!! Deutschland, remember! I'm Prussia, and I'm awesome. I'll teach ya stuff again, don't worry kid.'

So he was Deutschland… Allemagne… Germany… He liked it, but…

There was something wrong, something he had forgotten…

Italy sat at home, still waiting.


End file.
